Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100628 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 403(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
“Sorry, I think I have the wrong number,” I replied.
He cleared his throat. “Rumi’s Escort Service,” he said, dropping his voice down low. “We guarantee to clear out the cobwebs and the pipes.”
I burst out laughing. “I don’t even know what that means.”
“I don’t either,” he conceded. “But it sounded good at the time. What are you doin’?”
“Driving to work.”
“Craft store this morning, pancake house tonight?”
“Yep.”
“Sucks.”
“Eh, it’s alright. At least I got to go home for dinner.”
“What did Ash make?” Rumi asked eagerly.
“You’re like a food voyeur,” I replied dryly. “We had stew.”
“Yum,” he groaned. “Maybe I’ll go to my parents’ house tonight and see if I can bum dinner.”
“Heather will make you your own dinner if you ask for it.”
“That’s true.”
“What does your week look like?” I asked, pulling into a parking space.
“Busy,” he said with a laugh. “There’s a club barbecue on Saturday—you goin’?”
“I didn’t know anything about it.”
“Well, try and go so I’m not bored.”
I snorted. I couldn’t even imagine a scenario where Rumi was bored at a party.
“I’ve got shit on Wednesday and Thursday, too.”
“Well, crap,” I muttered, my shoulders slumping. “I work late Tuesday and Friday.”
“You need to quit,” he said, only half serious.
“Can’t quit now, I’m almost at the finish line.”
“Yeah, yeah,” he complained. “It’s cuttin’ into best friend time.”
“It’s been cutting into best friend time for the past year,” I reminded him. “You’re just bitching about it now?”
“You wanna come over after work? You can just stay over.”
“Maybe,” I hedged. I couldn’t remember if I had to work the morning shift after the night shifts at the restaurant—if I did, I needed to go home and actually sleep. “I don’t have to work late on Wednesday, but I could come over afterward if you’re not gonna be late?”
“I’ve got a family dinner at the grandparents,” he replied. “Shouldn’t be too late. What are you doing Thursday?”
“I have a date.” I’d made it way too far in advance and I wished I didn’t have to go, but I kind of felt like I’d be an ass if I canceled now.
“Ah, so Thursday definitely won’t work.” Something in his voice sounded weird, almost choked.
“Well, yeah.” I climbed out of the car and used my hip to bump it closed. “But Wednesday will, right?”
“Right. Wednesday.”
“What?”
“Nothin’,” he replied. “Wednesday sounds good. I’ll let you know when I’m headed home and you can meet me there.”
The next couple of days passed the way they usually did. On Tuesday, I was able to pick Bird up from school before my shift, which was pretty fun. I felt like I hadn’t seen him much lately and even when we were together, I’d been distracted. It was crazy to see the little brother that I’d taught how to use the toilet and ride a bike suddenly talking about what he wanted to do after high school and how pretty a girl in his math class was. I debated telling him about what Pop had done, but ultimately decided against it. Part of me wanted to make sure that my baby brother was careful, he couldn’t protect against something he didn’t see coming—but the bigger part of me refused to take away his sense of safety that was so hard won. Bird would tell me if anything felt off at home and he hadn’t said a word, so I kept my mouth shut.
By the time I pulled up to Rumi’s house Wednesday night life had fallen back into the easy rhythm that I prized. Things at home were back to normal, work was work, and I was going to spend the night with my best friend.
“You beat me here,” Rumi said happily as he came to a stop beside my car.
“You got the Harley fixed!” I hurried forward to pull open his garage door so he could pull inside.
“Barely,” he joked, scoffing as he pulled off his helmet. “I was just crossin’ my fingers I didn’t break down on the way home.”
“How was dinner?” I asked, following him into the house.
“It was good.” He shrugged. “Everyone wanted to see Emilia again and meet Rhett.”
“Damn,” I murmured in surprise. “She’s brave.”
“Nah.” He threw his arm over my shoulder. “They were all cool. They’re just happy she’s here, ya know? It’s not like anyone coulda said shit to her anyway, Micky followed her around scowlin’ at everyone who looked at her sideways.”
“Ah, Micky,” I said, knowingly. Rumi’s brother was intense. Even when we were kids and he’d seemed pretty easygoing and mellow, I’d always noticed something just under the surface that made me cautious. I’d never been scared of Mick because from everything I’d seen, he was a genuinely kind dude, but I knew instinctively that something inside him could burst at any moment.
I’d been proven right on that when he’d lost his shit and trashed Emilia’s old house. I’d never seen anything like it before or since.